


Deluge

by Sticks



Category: Star Wars: New Jedi Order Era - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sticks/pseuds/Sticks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU during Ylesia. Kyp is holding back, in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deluge

He was always so kriffing _gentle_ with her. That was the problem, Jaina Solo realized as she took three hasty steps backward to avoid the whirlwind of Kyp Durron’s white-purple blade. Any attempt to block or parry in that instant would have resulted in him sweeping her lightsaber out of her hands, so she focused instead on evasive footwork. Once she was out of range and Kyp settled back into a medium style guard stance, Jaina took an instant to consider her next offensive.

It wasn’t sparring where Kyp held back--though his formerly grandiloquent style had certainly developed an emphasis on defense and conservation of energy in recent months, honed by combat with the Yuuzhan Vong. Here in the _Ralroost_ ’s practice room, one of several Admiral Kre’fey had fortified specifically for the use of his Jedi guests, Master Durron was a subdued but nevertheless formidable opponent whose stated goal was to “keep the Sword sharp.”

He took the job seriously, as Jaina discovered anew when she attempted to circumvent the advantage he had in height by executing a flip over his head to attack in midair. Kyp anticipated and leapt too, and met her three meters above the deck. Jaina was already upside down, and blocking his jab at her unprotected shins forced her into an unskilled roll upon landing. She salvaged some grace and came up in a one-handed spring, then lit on her feet and waited for him to come after her.

No, when they sparred Kyp was as ruthlessly aggressive as she’d come to expect. But other times, when they were alone, the way he held her reminded her of Jacen years ago on Yavin IV with a particularly rare specimen from his menagerie. He had a weird crested avian with gossamer wings and a delicate constitution, and he always handled it cupped in his palms, his voice low and soothing. At first, the tenderness of Kyp’s voice and touch was a welcome respite from the harsh realities of the war. But now...

Kyp rushed at her, faster than she reckoned he would, and when he was within striking range he moved even closer before she could bring her blade around. Now inside the sweep of her arms, he ducked and propelled his shoulder into her gut. _Sneaky son of a tharl_ , she thought as the wind was knocked from her and she staggered back a step, but the thought was a private one--for the purpose of sparring, they kept their Force bond closed. Jaina recovered quickly, but was immediately forced to defend herself against a flurry of broad slashes as Kyp resumed applying the advantage of his long reach.

The onslaught continued, and Jaina started to break a sweat. Kyp’s strikes were unpredictable; he would hit high thrice in a row, then swing for her ankles, then attempt another body check, and so on, forcing her to continually defend at the limits of her sphere. At last, when she was beginning to think this might just wear her out, Kyp stepped close once more and engaged her in a cadence of strikes, parries, and blocks that resembled the classic form of fencing she’d first learned at the academy. It was almost a relief, but it was short lived--when he had her attention focused on a block that seemed unnaturally high and off balance, he swept one foot behind her ankles and dumped her unceremoniously to the floor panels.

“Yield?” he suggested, the tip of his blade hovering over her throat.

“Yield,” she agreed, and they extinguished their lightsabers in unison. Kyp reached down to help her up, but Jaina got to her feet without his assistance. It was the sort of minor slight the Jedi Master would normally shrug off, but as they crossed the floor to a pitcher full of _Ralroost_ ’s finest recycled water, Jaina could feel his irritation leaking out. So he was bothered by something, too. Good; they were even.

But they couldn’t exactly talk about it here. They had an audience: on the other side of a thick transparisteel wall stood several other Jedi Knights and Masters. Some of them sent her and Kyp sensations of approval through the Force in the wake of their bout. The practice room was soundproof, but she did not doubt any of their skills at lipreading. Jacen in particular was watching her carefully, and once she and Kyp finished, he would take the floor with Corran Horn.

Master Durron apparently didn’t consider this a poor time for discussing their inmost feelings, but he did at least turn his back to the transparisteel before asking, “What was that business in the conference room?”

Jaina took a swig of water before replying, “What business?” with her best approximation of her father’s guileless expression.

The older Jedi sighed. “‘You don’t have to be so protective of me, Master Durron,’” he sneered, his impression of her voice exaggerated and shrill.

“Well, you don’t,” she pointed out. “I’m not breakable.”

“And I wasn’t implying--” Kyp broke off, exasperated and showing it, and ran a hand over his face. “This isn’t about the battle plan, is it?”

“No,” she said flatly, and walked away from him, back to the center of the room. He was starting to get the idea, but she needed to make him understand in a more aggressive fashion. She needed to push some buttons. She wasn’t sure how she’d do that, but she figured it would probably involve trouncing him. “Two out of three.”

Kyp stepped forward to face her, his eyes troubled. He opened the link between them long enough to send her a warning. It was difficult to communicate abstract concepts through a Force bond--unless it was something familiar to both parties, and they both knew the Jedi Code. In her head, Jaina heard Kyp’s voice say, _There is no passion; there is serenity_.

At that Jaina couldn’t help but smirk, and she sent him the first reply that occurred to her. It was a single image: his own face, hovering above her in the dark of her quarters, his eyes half closed and his lips parted as he breathed her name. _You would know_. Immediately it dawned on her that he might--and probably would--misinterpret that as her scolding him for his passion, when in fact she was trying to tell him he had an oversupply of serenity.

Oh well. Either way, she would make sure he understood in full soon enough, and for the moment his confusion and surprise offered an advantage she would not miss. She sprang toward him. Kyp barely ignited his lightsaber in time, and took a few steps back under the ferocity of her attack. Astonished to get him on the defensive so easily, Jaina slipped into a series of feints, trying to use his greater size against him. The last of these left Kyp unbalanced, his right flank unprotected. She could have ended the duel in that moment, but instead Jaina slipped around him, swung her left leg up, and landed a solid kick on his rear.

A wave of surprise, tinged with more than a little amusement, rolled off the watching Jedi. Kyp stumbled, and when he circled back around his face was red. One button had been pushed. Feeling just a bit smug, Jaina drew back to give him time to recover some dignity, and he sent her a gust of bewildered frustration. _What do you want from me?_

That, she suddenly understood, was the real problem. She knew what she wanted from him. She saw the overwhelming depth of his love for her every time she looked in his eyes--she wanted to feel it, too. Not this delicate saccharine poodoo straight out of a bad holo. She didn’t want him to handle her like a piece of Sullustan glasswork. She didn’t want to be cupped in his palms. It was a crime for someone as strong in the Force as Jedi Master Kyp Durron to censor, suppress, or restrain himself in his love life, of all things. There was a place, even among the Jedi, for uninhibited passion. But how to tell him that?

She started with an image of Yavin IV during the wet season, when sheets of water drenched anything unfortunate enough to be outside shelter, and gale force winds ripped at the Massassi trees. Then she sent him a view of a sandstorm in the Jundland Wastes. Then, Mon Calamari’s towering waves. _Sweep me away. I know what you’re capable of; don’t hold back with me._

Kyp looked at her with a profound sadness in his eyes, and when she reached out to brush against him in the Force she felt only concern for her.

_Oh, you idiot. You sweet, stupid idiot._ Somehow he’d got it into his thick skull that his actions, his immoderation, might lead to her sliding toward the Dark Side once more. He was so full of anxiety for her that he was measuring every word he said, tempering every touch. Kriffing stupid.

So she told him, in glimpses and flashes, how ridiculous that was. Her hand in his. The way he smiled at her as they got ready to leave Hapes. The things she saw in his eyes, and the way they made her feel. And she showed him a wroshyr tree, stretching to the stratosphere, its roots descending nearly as far underground, anchoring it unshakably. _You brought me out of the dark, and I’m not going back. I chose you--I want you. All of you._

Kyp’s brow furrowed as he received all this, and he glanced away from her for the space of a heartbeat. Jaina felt the eyes of the other Jedi on them, doubtless wondering why they’d stopped. When Kyp met her gaze again, there was a new set to his jaw, a new understanding and determination in his countenance. _All of me, Goddess? You’re going to take that back in a minute._ And with no further warning he vaulted toward her.

Even though Kyp had not been pulling his punches before, the difference was unmistakable. It was akin to a second wind, but it went deeper than energy reserves--his movements were smooth, effortlessly graceful, and above all fast. Though their link was closed once more, she could feel currents in the Force flowing to him, answering his call. She blocked three strikes in one second, two more the next, then jumped over a low sweep and immediately somersaulted to avoid his elbow. His blade was more like a disc of solid light, a wall in which she could not find a hole, not even for an instant. For every strike she could not pull off on him, she had to block or parry a trio of his. If she had time, she might have been angry, but as it was she felt strangely invigorated and even a little fortunate to be there. _This_ was a fight.

Then Kyp started to circle around her, moving with breathtaking fluidity, and Jaina got the disconcerting feeling that he had been toying with her all this time. He was stretching out again, striking first to her left and then all the way to her right, over her head and down at her toes, and every time she returned to a middle guard stance he moved again and forced her to turn. She tried to leap over him, but he snatched her back down with the Force and she managed a clumsy crouch, both arms extended straight out for balance, before she had to defend to her left. Her muscles burned and her lungs ached--she’d been too long in a cockpit, and as maddening as it was, this was exactly the sort of workout she should get more often. Just what the Sword needed.

Finally, as if he had arbitrarily decided it would be a good time to put her out of her misery, Kyp moved behind her once more. He brought a high slash down toward her head, and when she wrenched her lightsaber awkwardly behind her shoulders, he pinned it there with his own and drove his boot into the back of her right knee.

She hit the deck and rolled onto her back to find his blade over her heart. Beyond it, he seemed nearly as luminous, his chest heaving under his tunic. _At least I made him sweat._

There was something in his eyes, something she’d only seen in part before, and she liked it. “Yield,” he said. It wasn’t a suggestion.

Jaina wanted to laugh, but she didn’t have the breath. Instead she let a grin spread across her face. “Completely,” she whispered.

They powered down their lightsabers, and Kyp held out his hand. This time she grasped it; his grip was durasteel. He yanked her upright so sharply that her feet left the floor, and before she could recover he was pulling her toward the door and out of the practice room.

In the corridor they passed Corran and Jacen. “I’ve never seen anything quite like that,” Corran called after them, but Kyp said nothing. Jacen was also silent, a knowing look in his eyes. Jaina grinned at them over her shoulder before a bend in the corridor eclipsed them, then turned to follow her Jedi Master, her match in every sense, back to her cabin.


End file.
